THE TRAVELLER WHO LOST HIS WAY.
The steward of the yacht watched the house of Mr. Fairfield all night;
but no one entered or left it. Levi took his turn the next day again;
and, when he proposed to employ a fresh hand for the second night,
Augustus insisted upon serving, himself. He had slept enough during the
day, and he wanted the satisfaction of capturing Dock, if he presented
himself.
This time he was in luck, as he declared, for about one o'clock at
night, when the town was as still as though it contained not a single
living inhabitant, the villain came to obtain his money, probably not
doubting that by this time it had been paid to his agent.
The steward had stationed himself in such a position that no one could
approach the house unseen by him. Just after the clock on one of the
churches had struck one, he heard footsteps on the road, and presently
a man stopped in front of the miser's house. Contrary to the usual
custom of rogues and villains, he went up to the front door, and
knocked vigorously. The heart of the watcher leaped with expectation,
and he crept like a cat on the grass till he had obtained a position
behind a lilac bush, near the front door. The first summons of the
unseasonable visitor did not procure a response from within, and the
man knocked again.
Though the vigilant sentinel did not recognize his cowardly enemy, he
had no doubt it was he. The form was about the height of Dock, but
appeared to be better dressed than when he had seen the ruffian. Who
else should go to the house of the miser at that unseemly hour?
"Who's there?" called Mr. Fairfield, with his impatient whine, as he
threw open one of the windows of his chamber.
"I've got lost, and I want some one to show me the way to Gloucester,"
replied the visitor, in a tone so different from the voice of Dock that
Augustus did not recognize it, and began to fear that the villain was
not within his reach, as he had confidently believed.
"Got lost--have you? Well, take the right hand road out by the
school-'us," added the miser, not so sourly as most people would have
spoken when roused from their sleep to direct a night traveller.
"There are two or three roads there, and I can't afford to go much out
of my way. Come out and show me, and I'll pay you for your trouble."
This was quite enough for the miser, and he promised to come. The
caller stepped out into the road, and Augustus crouched down under the
lilac bushes to escape observation. In a few moments Mr. Fairfield
appeared, muffled up in a ragged overcoat.
"Well, Squire Fairfield, what's the news?" demanded the visitor, when
the old man joined him.
If the steward had any doubts before, he had none now. It was Dock
Vincent beyond a peradventure, and his voice sounded as natural as on
former occasions. It was plain that the bewildered traveller was a myth
for the benefit of Mrs. Fairfield, who, being "women folks," and not
understanding business, was not permitted to share the heavy secrets of
her husband, especially on the present momentous occasion.
"There ain't nothin' at all for news," replied the old man, as he
glanced at the house, as if to assure himself that his wife was not
watching him.
"No news?" exclaimed Dock. "Hasn't Watson come done with the money
yet?"
"No; nor that ain't the wust on't, nuther. I don't believe he will."
"O, yes, he will!" replied Dock, confidently. "I've got things fixed
this time so that he can't help planking down the money. He'll be glad
to pay it, I can tell you."
"What have you done with the gal, cap'n?"
"We've got her; and Watson never'll see her again unless he pays the
money--that's so."
"But he won't pay it; and I ain't go'n' to git my share on't at all,"
whined the miser.
"Yes, you will; don't be alarmed, Squire Fairfield."
"They've sent a steamer off arter the vessel."
"Have they, though?"
"Yes, they have; and Gayles has gone in her."
"All right; the steamer'll cost some money, and won't do any good.
She'll come back without the girl. My vessel isn't a great ways from
New York, and when I say the word she'll start, whether I go in her or
not. I tell you, Mr. Watson will be glad to pay the money before many
days. He don't understand the matter yet. I'll come again in two or
three days; and I reckon you'll have the money next time I come."
"Where are you stoppin' now?" asked Mr. Fairfield.
"Nowhere in these parts; but I'll be here in two or three days."
"But Watson won't pay that money, no more'n nothin' in the world."
"Yes, he will. He can't help doing it, if he wants his daughter again.
Where's Levi now?"
"He's round here; but what am I go'n' to do for what you owe me, if
Watson don't pay the money?" asked the old man, anxiously.
"I'll pay it all just as I agreed to do. Now go to bed again, Squire
Fairfield, or your wife will be out looking for you."
"But I want to know sunthin more about this business."
"You mustn't know any more than you do. I didn't mean you should know
anything about it. I never told you anything. When you get the money,
you hold on to it till I come. I don't know as it's quite safe for me
to come here again, even in the night. I guess we'll fix it some other
way."
Dock did "fix it some other way"--it is of no consequence how.
"After I get this money, and get all ready to start, I'm going to
settle up matters with Levi and that nigger before I go. I expect I
shall kill that nigger if I ever see him again."
"Shall you? Then now's your time!" yelled Mr. C. Augustus Ebénier, as
he sprang from his covert, and rushed upon his enemy.
Dock Vincent was startled, as a braver man than he might have been
under such circumstances; but the steward did not permit him to recover
his self-possession. With an oak stick he carried in his hand, he dealt
a heavy blow upon the head of the villain. But his cranium seemed to be
made of more solid material than his African assailant's, for he
attempted to rise, when the steward repeated the stroke so effectually
that he lay still on the ground.
"Don't! Don't!" pleaded Mr. Fairfield, terrified by the tragic event.
"Don't tech him agin. Let him be."
But Dock was not deprived of his consciousness even by the severe blows
he had received, and again he attempted to rise.
"Lay still! If you don't there'll be a dead man not far from here,"
said the steward, as he took his revolver from his pocket.
Dock saw it, and dared not move.
"Don't tech him no more. Let him go now."
"Not if I know it! Allow me to insinuate, in the most direct manner
possible, that this man is my prisoner; and if he don't spend the rest
of his days in the state prison, it will be an outrage upon humanity,"
added the steward.
"Don't tech him no more. Let him go. I'll give you twenty-five cents if
you will," whined the miser, who had to open his heart very wide to
make this liberal offer.
"He is going to jail, if there is such an institution in these parts,"
replied Augustus.
"I'll give you fifty cents if you'll let him go," pleaded Mr.
Fairfield.
"If you would give me fifty thousand dollars, I wouldn't let him go,"
replied the steward. "Do you think I would sell my own soul for money?"
Augustus, with the revolver in his right hand, felt in all the pockets
of his prostrate enemy for dangerous weapons, but he found none.
"Now get up," said he.
Dock obeyed, in momentary fear that one of the pistol balls would be
spinning through his head.
"Do you know where Mr. Watson's house is?" continued he.
"I do," replied Dock.
"Then march; and if you turn to the right or the left, or attempt any
irregular proceeding, I promise you, on the honor of Mr. C. Augustus
Ebénier, that I will give you the benefit of every bullet this pistol
contains, six in number, by actual count. Forward!"
Dock marched in the direction indicated; he could not help doing so,
bitter as the necessity was. Mr. Fairfield followed, begging and
pleading with all his eloquence, and even offering as high as a dollar
for the release of his friend.
"Old man, return to your humble abode, and give up your weary frame to
the arms of Morpheus," said Augustus, when his patience was exhausted.
"In other words, venerable sir, go home, and go to bed."
The miser was terribly stricken by the sudden misfortune of Dock; not
from sympathy, but because it foreboded the loss of the money the
prisoner owed him. It is possible that he had some fear of being
compromised before the courts. If he had, it was overborne by the
greater dread of losing his money. He could not willingly return; and
it was only when the steward threatened him with the terrible pistol
that he did so.
Augustus walked about six feet behind his victim till he came to Mr.
Watson's house, and then directed him to go up to the side door.
"Ring the bell!" said the steward, in the stern tones of command.
"See here, steward, can't we arrange this thing," replied Dock, turning
to his remorseless captor.
"Ring the bell! We'll arrange it in the court."
Dock rang the bell. Little did the father and mother of Bessie sleep
while she was away from them, and they heard the bell the first time it
was rung.
"Who's there?" called Mr. Watson from a second-story window.
"Augustus, sir," replied the steward, in the mildest of tones. "There's
a gentleman here to see you, sir."
"I will be down in a moment;" and presently a light appeared in the
dining-room.
"Walk in," said Mr. Watson, opening the door.
"Walk in!" repeated Augustus, in stern tones.
Dock followed the merchant into the dining-room, closely attended by
his guard.
"Vincent!" exclaimed Mr. Watson, when he turned to see who his midnight
visitor was.
"Yes, sir," replied the steward. "You will pardon me for bringing him
here, sir; but I did not know what else to do with him."
"Vincent, where is my daughter?" demanded the merchant, earnestly.
"She is on her way to Australia," replied Dock, who was now beginning
to recover his self-possession, and to measure the consequences of his
misfortune.
"I beg to suggest, Mr. Watson, that his reply is a wretched falsehood,"
interposed the steward. "I heard him tell Mr. Fairfield that his vessel
wasn't a great ways from New York."
"In the latitude of New York, I meant merely. Mr. Watson, this man is
making a mess of it for you. I made my demand of you by letter. Give me
the money, and your daughter shall be restored. If you don't, you will
never see her again, whatever may happen to me," said Dock.
"Not a dollar! Not a penny!" replied Mr. Watson, with emphasis.
"Very well, Mr. Watson. You will discover your mistake soon enough,"
added Dock.
"We want an officer and a pair of handcuffs," said Mr. Watson. "Can you
keep him while I procure assistance?"
"I can," answered Augustus, confidently, as he displayed his pistol.
Mr. Watson called his two men, and sent one of them for Constable
Cooke, who was the only officer available at that hour of the night. He
came, and the villain was ironed. The constable and the steward kept
guard over him till morning.